the sara ochs blog

After I picked the “big” childrens up from school this afternoon we went to the library in Cairo. The Roddenberry Memorial Library, if you please. I know what you might be thinking and I assure you that I probably thought the same thing. Something along the lines of “Cairo has a library? Is it only picture books? Do you even have to use a library card or does the mud on your car/truck/van prove that you are a resident of Grady county?” Lord, forgive me.

Boy, was I wrong! The Roddenberry library is one of the nicest libraries I have ever been to. (for the record, I know that sentences should not end in a preposition but I cannot bring myself to type “one of the nicest libraries to which I have ever been” in one of the Cairo chronicles) Those Roddenberries must have been some pretty special folk because there is also a street named after them. And apparently Madame Rodenberry collected statues because there is an extensive photographic representation of said statues in the annex of the library. Yes I said annex. It is sha-la. (and in case you missed it “sha-la” is a made up word for fancy)

So today was library day. We had the usual talk about library manners which was promptly forgotten. We returned the books that were due. By which I mean that I returned them while all three babies sat on a single stool and spun themselves silly. I ignored the feralness momentarily and chose a few old lady books. The babies were then ready to move to the children’s wing. So we ran down the ramp, shouted at the suit of armor to put his dukes up, abused to antique rocking horse, slammed to gate to the secret garden reading area MULTIPLE times. We whisper shouted at each other to please be quiet and choose a book for the love of Mike. We turned on computers without permission. We subtracted 15 years from the life of the librarian on duty.

While we were checking out our chosen books, Anderson convinced the librarian that he knew Spanish and could in fact READ Spanish. This is not true. I do take partial responsibility for his delusions of multi-lingualness. I did teach him the single most important phrase in Spanish. The “where is the bathroom?” phrase. Anyway the librarian took the little man to the Spanish section where he chose a Spanish book on snakes. Awesome. A book I cannot read about a subject I despise. Good times.

Also while we were there I saw a boy that I am 98% sure was the son of a Facebook friend. I know him only through her picture posts. I almost said hello to him then stopped myself when I realized what a creeper I had become.

So that was our afternoon. Be jealous. And go read a book…for the love of Mike.